The Other Memory
by x19Narya90x
Summary: Severus Snape didn't allow Harry Potter completely unrestricted access to his memories on that fateful night in the Shrieking Shack... WARNING - Deathly Hallows spoilers!
1. Part One: Look At Me

Blood bubbled bitter and coppery-tasting in the mouth of Severus Snape, and the agony of his wounds began to fade. He was dying, he knew. How could it be otherwise? Lord Voldemort showed no mercy. Lord Voldemort took no chances. When Lord Voldemort wanted somebody dead then their fate was sealed – there was no hope that Nagini might not have been thorough enough in her task. He was as surely doomed as those now fighting in the castle for the cause of Harry Potter, the boy to whom he had failed to fulfil his last obligation.

The cool of the Shrieking Shack enveloped him as the room hazed and paled around him. His mind whirled, awash with memories. One face floated to the surface – green-eyed, framed by dark red hair. A desperate aching hunger filled him even as life slithered from his limbs, but shame was quick to swallow it. He had not done as he had sworn. He had not protected the boy. He had failed her. Frantically he tried to staunch the flow of blood from the holes in his neck as her image threatened to slip away; he had to stay, he had to explain that he had tried.

Suddenly the green eyes he loved so dearly were floating right above him, and his own black orbs widened in shock at the disgust and disappointment they held. _I'm sorry, _he mouthed, unable to speak. _I'm sorry..._

The eyes came lower. Jet black hair fell into them. Realisation jolted him temporarily back towards life.

These eyes were not hers – and yet at the same time they were. These eyes had tormented him for six long years up at the school. These eyes belonged to Potter.

Snape's arm flailed outward and he seized a fistful of robes. He dragged the boy down towards him. He knew what he must do; there was no other way now, no time to explain. "Take...it...take... it..." he choked, disgusted by the rasping gurgle of his voice.

His memories danced before his mind's eye once again as they leaked out of him in a silvery flood – a pretty red-haired girl flying off the swing in the park and lingering for far too long in the air, the Sorting Hat screaming "_Slytherin!" _as he slipped it onto his head, those long sun-drenched afternoons walking in the Hogwarts grounds with her at his side, the bullying at the hands of the so-called Marauders after the Defence O.W.L., the kiss..._no, _he thought, _no, not that!_

With the last remaining tendrils of consciousness he clutched back that bittersweet moment, that most precious of memories. That was something no-one must ever see, especially not Potter. He let it nestle back into his mind, and as the world around him faded into a greyish blur, he allowed himself to revisit it one more time...

*

"So the five signs that identify the werewolf are?"

"Frankly, Sev, I'm past caring." Lily Evans stretched out in the grass, letting the sun soak her limbs.

"The exam's in twenty minutes..."

"...so if we don't know it now then we never will. Let's just relax for a bit." She opened one eye and grinned mischievously at him. "It does you good, you know."

"It's alright for you," he grumbled, sprawling out beside her. "Prefect...teacher's pet...you don't even have to work hard and you still do well."

She didn't answer. He gazed at her lean pale form, red hair fanning out behind her, and not for the first time wondered what on Earth he had done to deserve her as a friend. His stomach twisted into an uncomfortable knot as he thought of the jeers he endured from Mulciber and Avery on the subject of her parentage.

_"How's your little Mudblood girlfriend, Snape?"_

Anger prickled along his skin and he balled his fists.

"Sev?"

He smiled, as he always did at the diminutive that she alone was allowed to use. "Yeah?"

"Kiss me?"

For the briefest of instants the world seemed to lurch around him; he felt a peculiar bucking movement in the region of his stomach and his throat suddenly constricted. "Wh-what?"

"You know. For luck."

"Oh. Right." Never in his life had he been more desperate for a drink of water. His mouth was as dry as old parchment – and then a thought suddenly struck him. She might not have meant what he thought. "Er...where?"

She opened her eyes, looking confused. "What?"

"Where," he repeated, sallow skin flushing dully. "Where do I kiss you?"

Confusion turned to bafflement. "Where on Earth do you think people normally kiss?"

"Well...I wasn't sure if you meant...you know...on the cheek, or..." His nervous mumbling trailed into silence, and he stared at the grass. Not far away, he heard James Potter and his friends laughing. They couldn't be laughing at him, they weren't nearly close enough to hear the conversation, but even so he flinched at the sound. "I'm sorry," he finished pathetically, his blood burning in embarrassment.

"Severus, look at me."

Reluctantly, he lifted his eyes to meet hers. The intensity of her stare was uncomfortable, her irises a shade of bright green that was almost unnatural. Blood pounded in his throat. Merlin, she was perfect – her skin glowed gently, and the sun shone against the soft curve of her red hair as it framed her jaw. She smiled.

"Close your eyes," she instructed.

He obeyed, and a second later felt the touch of lips against his own. They were dry and still – she was nervous too, he realised. Emboldened by the thought, he reached out to where he thought her face should be and accidentally brushed against her ear. He blushed, but she didn't react.

_This is it, _he thought as her mouth softened against his. _Never mind Spinner's End, or my stupid parents, or any of that Pureblood rubbish. I'm home. I love her. She's my whole world._

She pulled away and giggled. He smiled uncertainly, his head spinning, joy and nerves leaping inside him in equal measure. The grass prickled against the palms of his hands as he sat back and looked at her, trying to read her face. Her cheeks had flushed pink.

Suddenly whoops and hollers erupted around them. Fury exploded inside him and he snatched his wand out of his robes as he picked out Potter's voice in the cacophony.

"Snivellus has got himself a girlfriend!" he heard him crow.

He spun around and picked him out, flanked by Black and Pettigrew. Lupin hovered nervously some feet away. He raised his right arm with a flourish, _Sectumsempra _on his lips, and then cool slim fingers gripped his wrist.

"Leave it, Sev," muttered Lily. "He's not worth the trouble you'd get into."

"But I could just-"

"No, Sev." Prefect authority touched her voice. "Come on."

James Potter lounged against Sirius Black, his own wand resting casually in his hand. "Chickening out, Snivellus?"

"Be quiet, Potter," Lily snapped. "If you had any sense, you'd already be walking up to the school. You've got a Defence exam to take, same as the rest of us."

" 'You've got a Defence exam, same as the rest of us,' " he snickered, mimicking her lofty voice.

"Careful, Potter!" Her voice was sweet enough, but with one swift movement she produced her wand too. Potter eyed it uncertainly, clearly wary of her in a way he wasn't of Snape.

"Come on, Evans, it's just a bit of fun," Black interjected.

"Really? Who's laughing?" She tucked her wand away and turned her back on them. "Let's go, Severus."

Severus followed her, admiring the swish of her red hair against the back of her robes and the unmistakeable self-confidence in her walk. It lacked the arrogance of Potter's strut, but there was a certain swing of the hips, a particular rhythm to the stride, that suggested this young lady was not one to be crossed. All at once he felt rather like a puppy-dog trailing at the heels of his master. The thought grated within him.

"Hey! Hey, Evans!"

It was Potter again, haring after them. Severus clenched his fists as he approached.

"What now?" Lily turned to face him with her hands on her hips, her face set in an icy mask that Professor McGonagall would have been proud of.

"Are you...are you and him...are you together now?"

She tilted her head. "What's it to you if we are?"

"Me? Well, nothing, but-"

"Then don't ask questions if it's none of your business."

She turned smartly on her heel, and Severus hurried to catch her up. He sucked on his tongue, uncertain how to phrase the question he so desperately wanted to ask. The words seemed to be tying themselves in knots in his mouth.

"Spit it out, Sev," Lily ordered, glancing sideways at him with a grin.

He nodded, abashed. But then, she'd always been able to read him like an open book.

Perhaps that was why he loved her.

"You know what Potter said?" he asked.

"Which bit?"

"When he said..." He paused and swallowed. "When he asked if we were together."

She shot him another glance. "Go on."

"Well, are we?"

They were inside the Entrance Hall now, and its coolness washed over him as they stepped out of the sun. She stopped and turned to face him, and sighed. "I don't know."

Bubbles of panic formed in his stomach, but he tried to squash them and make his voice sound normal as he asked, "What do you mean? Didn't you like it?"

"Well, yes, but..." She reached up and tugged her fingers through the tangles in her hair. "Didn't you think it was a bit weird?"

He must have looked stricken, for she instantly put a hand on his arm. "Oh, Sev, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that!"

He jerked away. Something hot and damp was clogging his throat. _Don't cry, _an insistent voice in his mind chanted. _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. _"So you think I'm weird, is that it?"

"No! No, of course not, that isn't what I said! All I meant was that...well...we're friends. I was confused, so I thought that maybe if I kissed you..."

"It wasn't for luck, then."

"Yes it was – sort of." She stepped forward and took his hand. "Look, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you or mix you up or anything like that. I do like you, Sev, I honestly do." She licked her lips. "I have for a while. But...even if we weren't friends already, there'd still be things we'd have to talk about. Mulciber and Avery, for instance. I caught Mulciber trying to practice the Cruciatus curse on a First Year the other day. Some of your friends...they're just evil, and I don't know why you can't see it, unless..."

"What?" Part of him to pull his hand away, but having her soft palm resting against his felt wonderfully, inexplicably perfect, in spite of their conversation.

"Sometimes I worry that you're going to turn into one of them." Her green eyes regarded him steadily. "I know what they're hoping to become. Death Eaters. They want to join You-Know-Who. Don't they?"

He gave a short stiff nod.

"Do you?"

"I..." He hesitated. He'd never talked about this with Lily before. It was a subject he preferred to avoid. "I'm not sure."

Instead of the condemnation he expected, her face softened, and she slipped even closer and rested her head on his shoulder. "I know it's hard for you, Sev. I know your parents are...well, I know what they did to you. I know you've been brought up to believe that people like me – Mudbloods –"

"Muggleborns," he corrected her automatically.

"Makes no difference," she shrugged. "According to your parents, and according to You-Know-Who, people like me have no place in this world. Muggles even less so. They're happy to kill us all. Whatever you've been through, Severus, whatever beliefs you've had drummed into your head, is that really what you want? Do you want me to die?"

"No!" He clutched her desperately to him. "No, of course not!"

"Then isn't it obvious whose side you should be on?"

"If you were with me then they wouldn't dare! Being with me would protect you –"

"You're sure about that?"

His mouth formed a "yes," but he felt a twinge of doubt in his mind. The truth was that he knew little about the ways of the Death Eaters. All he heard were second hand stories about the power and the glory that awaited those who would aid the Dark Lord in his rise to power – stories that sounded very appealing to a boy who had spent his childhood in fear of his father's fist.

"Think about it, Sev," Lily said softly, stepping back. "You think, and I'll think too. We can't keep avoiding this much longer."

"So it's a no, then. You don't want to be with me."

She shook her head, a trace of impatience appearing at her mouth. "It's not a "no." It's a "maybe." I'd like it to be more than that – but it's up to you." She smiled, and as the rest of their year began to wander into the hall, eyes feverishly scanning notes, she stood on tiptoe and pecked his lips once again. "That one was for luck," she whispered, then went to join her Gryffindor friends.

*

Now, as then, he felt the touch of her lips on his as though a ghost of the kiss still clung there. Even as his other memories trickled out of him, he was assaulted by the confusion that had muddled the thoughts of his fifteen-year-old self as he tried to focus on his Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. Lily liked him – maybe. That had been all he could think about. His initial joy at the possibility had given way to uncertainty and eventually anger as all his carefully memorised facts had flooded out of his mind in much the same way as his memories were doing now. What did she mean by "maybe"? And who was she to tell him who to be friends with or whose cause to pledge himself to? But Lily liked him – he had clung to that tiny golden fact for the duration of the exam. He had sought solitude afterwards to sound out his feelings, and what had followed he didn't want to remember...the unprovoked bullying from Potter (although he had almost expected it, after the kiss)...the way his already-fraught nerves had snapped...Lily rushing to his defence, and the terrible name he had called her in his humiliation, the name that had ended their friendship forever...

But she had liked him. If things had been different, then perhaps one day she might even have loved him. He clung to that thought like a talisman against the cold damp of the Shrieking Shack as Harry Potter's form began to swim before him. The clear green of his eyes – Lily's eyes – was merging into the dark background. This was it. It had to be.

He felt his grip on Potter's robes slacken, and with one final bubbling breath he begged, "Look...at...me..."

And then all around was blackness, and the last thing he thought he saw was Lily's face taking the place of Potter's – though how could that be? Her lips curved in that loving, knowing smile, and her eyes locked on his, anchoring, watching, keeping him safe.


	2. Part Two: The Inbetween

"Sev. Sev. Wake up."

He could hear. He still existed. How interesting.

"You did it, Sev. Harry knows now."

There were soft cool fingers in his hair. This person, this voice, clearly had a body. And since he had hair, it followed that he must have a body too. His cheek tickled. He was lying face down, with the warm green scent of grass in his nostrils.

"You were brilliant. For a while we thought...well, it doesn't matter anymore. Harry can do what he has to, and then – hopefully – we think – there'll be an end to this."

He listened intently to the voice as it talked. It was achingly, wonderfully familiar, though deeper and softer than he had ever heard it in life. And yet he didn't want to open his eyes, because he couldn't quite yet face the idea that he might be imagining things, that Lily Potter might not really be there with him.

"Come on, Sev." A shade of the old bossy impatience crept into her voice. "Enough's enough. I know you're in there."

A smile curled across his mouth. He couldn't help it. How he had missed that tone, that unconscious bite of authority.

"Severus Snape, you were my best friend for nearly ten years; I know where you're ticklish. Open your eyes this instant, or I swear..."

"Now, now, Lily," admonished an older voice. It sounded amused, and it too was familiar.

He opened his eyes. "Dumbledore?"

The old man nodded and strode forward, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. He offered Snape a hand up.

"You're dead," the younger man stated.

"I am."

"Then..."

"Yes, Severus, I am afraid that you are dead as well." Dumbledore's voice was tinged with quiet regret. "That is something I did not intend, and I am sorry. However, you did your duty admirably; Harry will understand enough from your memories to be able to follow the necessary course."

Snape took the hand – the one that he had last seen blackened and ruined, now made whole again – and stumbled slightly as he got to his feet. Someone else's hand on his arm steadied him, and he spun to face a wild halo of red hair and eyes of emerald green...

"Lily!"

She said nothing, but flung her arms around his waist and held him harder, tighter than she ever had when they were alive. Warmth flooded him and he returned the embrace, but dropped his arms after a few moments.

"What's wrong?" she asked, lifting her head.

"I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?"

"It's my fault – I started all of this – if I hadn't told Voldemort about the prophecy..."

She held a finger to his lips. "No time for that now."

"Indeed not," agreed Dumbledore. "Although if you will take guilt upon yourself, Severus, I must also point out that in all likelihood you will be the indirect means of ending this as well. You have provided Harry with the information he needs to finish Voldemort. I think the two deeds balance each other out."

"You wouldn't be here if they didn't," Lily added confidently, taking his hand. "Come on. We need to talk, and I haven't got long."

He glanced at Dumbledore, deferring to him for permission out of sheer force of habit. The old Headmaster nodded and waved him away. "We will speak later, Severus."

And so he allowed Lily to tow him away, across the grass towards a great lake – and then understanding came in a rush. He knew where they were. The lake, the grass, the forest edge...it was Hogwarts, but not as he had ever seen it. The colours were brighter, the sounds sharper, and everything had a golden, opulent cast that could not be natural. He longed to laugh. He had never believed in a Heaven, never really believed in anything after death, unless one chose to become a ghost. That he should be dead and yet strolling the grounds of Hogwarts castle as if nothing had ever happened struck him as beautifully ironic.

"Why are we here?" he asked Lily.

"At Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

She stopped and sat down at the water's edge, and patted the ground beside her. "It's hard to explain...we're not really there, or not in real time, anyway."

He sat down. "No, I had guessed as much."

"We're here at the moment because, in the real world – that is, the living world – Hogwarts is where all our loved ones are, where the future of our kind is being decided, and where we would choose to be if we were still alive. So Dumbledore says, anyway."

"It's not just you and him here, then?" He couldn't help the question, and he knew she would understand the meaning behind it. _Is Potter here?_

"No, it's not." She regarded him carefully. "James is here too, and Sirius, and lots of others. Silly old Bertha Jorkins. Charity Burbage. One of the Weasley boys – Fred, I think Dumbledore said. Cedric Diggory. Everybody who fought – or would have, if they'd had chance – for our side."

He hunched over his knees, much as he had when they had sat in this spot as teenagers. "So being dead is a place? Most odd."

"Well, that's the thing...ah!" A pained expression flitted across her face.

"What is it?" Severus asked, anxiety flaring in him.

"Remus," she murmured. "Oh, dear, dear Remus...so soon after the birth of your son..."

"You can tell when someone dies?" he asked, incredulous.

"If it's someone you know, yes. How do you think Dumbledore and I knew to come for you?" She tucked her hair behind her ears, tears beading at the corners of her green eyes.

He realised too late that his question had been utterly tactless. "If you want to go to Lupin – Remus – then you can..."

She shook her head. "I'm assuming James and Sirius will have gone. He won't want too many people there – it can be very disorienting when you first arrive – and anyway, I need to talk to you. Like I said, I don't have a lot of time."

"Where are you going?" He couldn't keep the pain from his voice; he couldn't bear to lose her yet again, after such a short respite.

She seemed to read his thoughts. "Don't worry, I'll be back – but I might get called away for a short while. I have a feeling that Harry might need me. James and Sirius too – and Remus now, I suppose."

He frowned, bewildered. "You can go back? Why didn't you..."

"Why did I never do it before?" She sighed. "We can't come and go as we please, but we can be called back by one thing."

Snape thought hard, and remembered the book that Dumbledore had left the Granger girl. "The Resurrection Stone!"

Lily nodded. "Harry has it – as I'm sure you know. Once he's seen your memories, he'll know that he has to walk willingly to his own death. It will probably be the hardest thing he's ever had to do. If he realises in time what's hidden in that Golden Snitch, then he may want our...ah...support."

He understood. "I'm sorry that he has to die. I tried to keep him safe for you."

For some reason, she smiled. "I know." The smile widened to a grin. "And as for whether he actually dies...well, we'll see."

Baffled though he was by this remark, he had another, more pressing question. "So if this isn't a place and it isn't really Hogwarts, what is it?"

She shrugged. "None of us know for sure. My best guess is that it's some sort of in-between – maybe a kind of fold in the fabric of our world. The borders between the two realms – that is, life and death – are semi-permeable as far as I can tell. That's why people who are close to dying can often hear the voices of their loved ones who have already passed beyond."

He swallowed, as nervous as he had been on that summer's afternoon so many years ago. "I saw you...your face...right at the end..."

A look of mixed smugness and intrigue stole across her features. "Did you? I could feel you were going, and I tried to let you know it would be alright. Interesting. I'm sure Dumbledore will want to know." The more serious expression returned. "Do you have any more questions?"

"Yes. What is this place when it isn't Hogwarts?"

"It varies. It can be different things to different people. Distance and time aren't the same here as they are in the real world – you can walk forever and not reach the edge of this land, and yet if you need to be somewhere quickly then it seems to...I don't know...contract. Everything's more fluid somehow." She frowned. "Does that make sense?"

"I think so."

"Good." She got to her feet. "I'm sorry, Sev, but I have to go. He needs me."

He knew she meant Harry. "Goodbye, Lily."

"We'll talk more when I get back," she promised. Already she seemed less solid as she began to fade across the boundaries between the worlds.

"Good luck," he called as she disappeared from sight.

He wasn't sure she heard him. It didn't matter. He would see her again. For now he needed to find Dumbledore, so he set off at a brisk walk, thinking as he went.

The future he had seen opening up before him by the side of the lake all those years ago – a life with Lily at his side, loving him – had never happened. Instead he had taken a diversion through darkness and returned to be redeemed, and it was his love for her that had done it. Suddenly he realised that he probably owed Lily Potter his soul.

Lily Potter.

The name still sounded alien even now. He wondered where her husband was – but it was idle curiosity, not a burning desire to do him mortal damage, that lay behind the thought. She was not his, and now never could be. Again he felt an insane urge to laugh – had death really reconciled him to his old enemies, the Marauders? Strange indeed.

He threw a glance back at the lake, and wondered whether, after the battle was won (of the fact that it would be won he was now certain, for he had been reunited with Lily, and all was right with the world) he would ever see it again. Would there ever be a need for the in-between to shape itself as Hogwarts in the future? Perhaps not. His eyes lingered on the patch of grass where once she and he had lain, lips brushing uncertainly in the unique, awkward way of that first teenage kiss. He smiled.

Lily Potter was not his. But Lily Evans had been, if only for a few brief hours.

He touched his mouth almost unconsciously and felt the familiar nostalgic tingle as the memory revisited him again. He was glad that he had kept it from Harry.

Nobody, he decided, must ever know.


End file.
